Briana Doesn't Live Here Anymore (Sympatico)

Sometimes I'd rather take a torrent of endless hotels on an interstate of endless dusty roads with an endless array of simple faces passing me by. Is there a difference between asking an endless stream of truckers how they want their eggs versus asking an endless stream of executives how they want their budget? At the end of the day, if I need to drink a bottle of wine or smoke a bowl in order to feel settled, does that not imply that something is out of sorts?

What are we anyway, if not the pursuit of endless dreams?

It's hard to balance in a post-feminist world. If you have any sense of self, that is.

All I know is I'm losing my mind. This much is clear, if only this much. I guess taking stock isn't so great when you're at the point when you realize that you have absolutely no one to....

...and I struggle for the correct phrase here. I have never lacked for friends. I'm a social person. But there are only a small handful of people that you connect with on an intimate level throughout your life. I suppose I'm lacking those people. Perhaps I'm just in between. The limnal spaces are always the worst.

But if you have no one who can call you on your shit or with whom you can let down your guard....you lose something in day to day life.

In the search for sympatico, when do I stop to realize that I can't rely on these people? They come and they go, those. How do other people do it?

At the end of the day, all I really want is to be able to let go in the company of a kindred spirit. Fuzzy sunlit kindred spirit land with it's own soundtrack of acoustic guitar and gentle breezes.

Something that can slow down time for a minute and let you appreciate the subtle details.

All my plants are dying....

There was a point in time when I had lots of plants all over my house and they grew and I re-potted them into larger pots and they grew more....

But now I can't seem to be bothered.

I think it's because I have cable. And because I left for a month and my cousin didn't water them and they mostly died then. I made a weak attempt at bringing them back, but I don't think I had a chance to properly bond with them before I went away and, therefore, wasn't especially worried about their brown, leafy demise.

But there's something to be said for one's ability to keep plant life alive. Houseplants are pretty hard to kill. You really have to neglect them. Point being, I suck at taking care of things right now.

I could blame my job, but it's not my job's fault that when I'm at home I can't be bothered to water my plants. I don't know what it is. But I'm reading into it and not necessarily liking the conclusion I get. Isn't there some sort of rule out of rehab that you can't start a relationship until you successfully take care of a pet? And that you can't have a pet until you successfully take care of plants? Ok, that may be from a bad Sandra Bullock movie. But the point is relevant no matter where you find it.

I think I'll go to a greenhouse this week (as I have the luxury of having a car) and pick up some new plants and pots and stuff and do some gardening. Word.

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Thanksgiving approacheth and I have nothing to do on Thursday. (Except Project Greenhouse, apparently) I'm 50/50 between inviting the few people I know who aren't doing anything over for dinner or dragging those people to the bars and getting wasted. I was thinking about it the other day and I realized that this must be the first Thanksgiving I've ever been away from the Fam. I've missed Christmas once (depressing) but I think I made it to Thanksgiving that year.

It's not that Thanksgiving is this super-important holiday for me, per se. I don't even really dig all the food and whatnot. Mostly, it's about having the chance to hang with the whole family. And I'm pretty much solo this year. I'm planning to attack it with gusto and come out of it on Friday victorious. We'll see. I may just roll around at the bottom of a whiskey glass all day instead.

Disconnected

It's red wine weather again. And stoned on a rainy Saturday afternoon weather. I've been needing an escape, as the vacation honeymoon has long since passed. Sometimes late at night the highway traffic sounds like the ocean. Sometimes the Bay Area feels too big for someone without a car. I miss being in school, meeting new people, drinking lots of beer while writing papers. And then I think about the feeling of being drunk alone in a strange city where no one is speaking your language. Wool-gathering weather. Hm.

I think too much.

I've been a hermit this month. Returning from a long trip makes you take stock. Like for some reason you have to examine the life you came back to and wonder why you bother when you could just cash everything in, pack a big suitcase, and go.

Home feels homier lately too. I think I always get more antisocial in winter, but I always feel like it's unnatural when the weather changes and I start to crave red wine and the couch.

San Francisco is a weird city. I feel like I see all of the shitty parts of it when I'm there. And I'm missing the quiet corners of the city that make it what it's famous for. I want to live by the ocean again. I always imagined living in one of those pastel houses by Ocean Beach when I was growing up here. Might be nice. I'd save money on the bart, that's for sure.

I think I'm going to have to get back to academia soon. The corporate world is getting to me lately. Maybe I'll go part time and take some classes at SFSU. What's the point of trying to work up to a different position if the end result is something I'm not really into? I hate having to play nice to a bunch of morons who have way too much money and absolutely no idea what they fuck it is that they're doing.

I heart my cousin. She's a peach.